


Underwater

by Nothing_is_Real



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nothing_is_Real/pseuds/Nothing_is_Real
Summary: Someone falls into the water.
Relationships: (IMPLIED), David Gilmour/Roger Waters
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Underwater

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a while since I've been on here (been dealing with some personal issues lately) but yeah I got some inspirations from this game I played and wrote this 😂

When the water closed over the back of his head, he somehow felt relieved.

A coolness engulfed his limbs and his mind, seeping through his parted lips into his throat. So comforting, so soothing. And he just let himself sink, free from the land, free from everything.

His thoughts went flowing back in time, to his earliest memories. He remembered being held in a pair of arms, a rueful lullaby in his ears. He remembered the soft fabric under his skin, hazy light above him.

He remembered the post-war days, the sky grey and the people tired. Life being rebuilt from ruins. They learned to be strong, to stand up with the heaviest of burdens on their shoulders.

He remembered being at the park, watching other children play with their fathers, while he sat alone on the swing. He remembered sitting at a doorstep, looking out far away, patiently waiting for his own father to return. Yet as night and day passed, he never did, and his hope dwindled, bit by bit.

He remembered the horrors of his schooldays. The sting of a ruler hitting his skin, the mocking laughter of his classmates. All embedded like acid burns in his memory. He never had the courage to seek revenge.

He remembered his teenage years, a race among the zigzagging paths in the black holes of uncertainty. But also a fierce, blood-boiling struggle against life. He remembered Judy, the girl who’d come to touch his heart, leading to the years of sweet love.

He remembered Syd. His carefree, unbridled smile. His childlike heart. His simple ingenuity, which he admired. He remembered gigging with him and Nick and Rick. The four of them running, racing towards the unknown, guided only by the dim light of their hopes and dreams.

But in the middle of it all, Syd tripped and fell. And didn’t get back up again. They weren’t able to hold on to him, and they could only keep going without him, leaving him to be run over by the wheels of growth and change. Yet he could never forget the look of complete absence in Syd’s eyes when he let go.

They were joined by David on their road to fame and fortune. In their earlier days they’d still play a lot of songs that Syd penned. The exact same tunes, but it was different with David. How David held that note a little longer, how he bent that string a little further—he heard them all, to his grief and his pain.

And gradually, they found themselves walking out of the thing that Syd had held onto so dearly. The restless days passed at the studio, exhausting time spent in the industry, the fleeting years shared with Judy. It wore him down, brought him to his knees. The fire in his heart burned out. It was like catching a flu, but a lot worse. A flu of the spirit, an illness of the soul.

The child had grown; the dream was gone.

This was what it’s all gone to.

The fear finally kicked in, when he found himself unable to breathe. He was suffocating. He kicked his arms and legs, struggling to get away from the water and find air above him. But his movements were sluggish, slowed down by the drag force of the water, and nothing he did could seem to get him back up. He wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but when he opened his mouth the water simply filled into his throat and lungs and no sound came out.

All his darkest nightmares were gathering, and he couldn’t escape them. He was drowning in his own memories, his own terrors.

But suddenly, he felt a hand on his own. And another arm that wrapped around his back, pushing him forward. And he heard a voice whispering from just above the surface.

“Relax. I got you. Kick your legs. Kick.”

The voice was so familiar, but with all the blood pounding in his head he couldn’t tell who it was. Without further thought he simply did as the voice said, closing his eyes and kicking back into the water.

_Save me. Don’t let me go._

He clenched the hand tighter.

_Don’t let me sink._

His surroundings suddenly became bright, and his vision became a bright red behind his eyelids.

“Breathe. You’re okay now.”

He coughed, choking and spitting water, trying to take in the air. A smooth, constant force pulled at his shoulders, and he leaned into the touch, letting it lead him wherever it would. And then his head touched something. Grass. Solid ground.

He opened his eyes.

“David?”

David knelt down over him, dripping wet as well. There was a genuinely concerned look in his eyes.

“God, Roger,” he panted, “I thought you were gonna drown.”

“I’m alive, Dave.”

He smiled, and reached to entwine his finger in Roger’s hair, while Roger tilted his head and sighed in contentment.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya enjoyed! :)


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